


Hard Knock Life

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-01
Updated: 2005-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Whumped Quatre a thon.</p><p>Request Parameters: Pairings you want: 3X4 (preferred), 1X4, 5X4, 2X4, 4XR or 4XS any pairing(s) that does not involve Quatre is at the discretion of the author.<br/>Pairings you don't want: 6X4, 4XD, 13X4<br/>What you want to see: I have a specific scenario in mind *takes<br/>breath* I want a mission gone wrong with an explosion that results in<br/>the serious injury (anywhere from just plain broken bones to<br/>paralysis, it's at the writer's discretion) that requires some sort of<br/>physical rehabilitation. Whether it's Quatre or his partner that is<br/>injured is up to the author. For the most part, I want to see the<br/>psychological aftermath but a good description of the KABLOOIE!! Would<br/>make me happy. ^_^<br/>What you don't want to see: No NCS, no character bashing,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Knock Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hexadecimal00](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hexadecimal00).



“I’m in position,” Quatre’s voice crackled over Trowa’s earpiece as he crouched behind some bushes in the back of a warehouse that was reported to be home to a cache of illegal weapons.

“Roger that, 04.” Duo’s cheerful voice echoed back. “03 and 05, are you in position?”

“Yes.” Trowa’s affirmative reply was followed right on the heels of Wufei’s.

“01, what is the status of the security system?”

“Disabled.”

“All right, kiddies, you heard the man. Move in.”

Quatre shook his head in amusement. Only Duo would call a group of highly trained and extremely dangerous Preventers agents kiddies, and live to tell the tale. He mentally shook himself and focused on the building in front of him. In a low crouch, he eased up to the solid metal door set off to the left side of center.

Jiggling the door handle verified what he had suspected. It was locked. After a moment of debate he holstered his weapon and pulled out his lock picks. In a deceptively short amount of time he heard the tumblers fall into place with a click. Turning the knob slightly, he verified that it was indeed unlocked. The cold metal of his gun replaced the lock picks in his hand and he eased the door open. He paused and counted slowly to ten, waiting for any sound that might indicate that he had been heard. When none materialized he slipped inside the warehouse, plastering himself to the wall. He quickly scanned for movement, but the building remained as quiet as before. Keeping to the shadows of the huge building, he kept himself alert for any signs that it was inhabited by anything besides the usual rodent and bug populations. Behind him, he felt more than heard first Trowa, then Wufei, slip into the building. Something tickled at the back of his mind and he pushed it aside. Everything was going according to plan.

High up on the wall on the other side of the building a solid red LED caught his eye. He frowned and moved forward, expecting to see the words EXIT over the bay doors. Instead, it appeared to be a solid light glowing dimly in the gloom. Quatre furrowed his brow, trying to find the source for his growing sense of discomfort. Keeping himself securely hidden in the shadows, he dropped down to a low crouch and spoke barely above a whisper into the microphone that rested right below his bottom lip.

“03 and 05 fall back. Checking out possible suspicious activity.”

“Roger that 04.” Trowa’s voice was equally soft. “Be careful.”

Quatre smiled. Trowa might be his partner in both Preventers and life but he was also a good agent. He trusted Quatre and would never question his actions as mission leader purely because of their relationship. Because of that, when Trowa did speak up and voice an objection Quatre listened, finding it to be valid time after time.

“Will do, 03. 04 out.”

Quatre edged his way farther into the building, his sense that something was wrong increasing with each step. Something was not as it should be, but he couldn’t put his finger on what the problem was. The situation was exactly as the anonymous tipster had described, a deserted warehouse on the outskirts of Geneva. He had not seen any of the supposed weapons cache but the building was huge and filled with shadows and side doors. It could be anywhere.

Below and to the right of the light, scaffolding had been pushed up against the wall. After first shaking it and checking it for stability, Quatre began to climb. The rounded metal bars that passed for steps were slick under his feet. About half way up he paused to assess the situation. Using his vantage point to survey the floor below him, then tilting his head to look up. The light was now flashing in a slow steady beat.

_Almost as if it was counting off seconds._

Suddenly the pieces fell into place and he screamed into his microphone.

“GET OUT! IT’S WIRED! RUN!”

Time seemed to slow down as he realized the flashing had sped up. There was a low rumble of sound, then a blast of heat, and he felt himself falling before the world went first white, then black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_“GET OUT! IT’S WIRED! RUN!"_

Quatre’s words ringing his ears, Wufei shoved Trowa towards the door, then ran after him, dragging him by his shirt when he protested. They had barely cleared the building, diving behind a low wall that skirted the factory, when the first shock wave of sound hit them. The noise rumbled and rolled like thunder on a hot summer day. Echoing through their heads at a level that was physically painful.

The shock wave hit next. Super heated air rolled over and around them, bringing with it the smell of ozone and explosives. A smell both men had long associated with pain and death. The rush of air from the explosion shook the foliage, scattering leaves on the ground, and pushing the around the dust and small pebbles in its path.

Slowly, the building collapsed in on itself, settling in a cloud of dust and grime that obscured its death throes. The whine of metal bending under a heavy load, mixed with the sound of chunks of wood and cement, crashing down and splintering as they made impact with the other debris. Then nothing. The silence was as oppressive and overwhelming as the sound before it, carrying with it a statement of finality.

Wufei shook his head and cautiously raised it, acutely aware of Duo’s voice in his ear yelling for a status report, right now goddamn it! Wufei did a cursory check of Trowa before answering.

“05 and 03 status uninjured. 04 status unknown.”

Next to him Trowa choked, his voice barely audible. “He’s alive. I can feel him.”

There was no need to explain what he meant. All the pilots knew about Quatre’s empathy and the fact that he and Trowa could sense each other, feel each other’s emotions. While it has seemed strange at first, they had all come to accept it as just part of who the two men were. No different than Duo’s love of pizza, Heero’s collection of classic cars and Wufei’s refusal to wear shorts no matter the weather.

Wufei let out a quiet breath and allowed his eyes to slip closed for a split second in relief before returning to his usual efficiency.

“03 reports that 04 is alive. We need a rescue crew with full medical STAT!”

“Roger that, 05. Rescue and medical crew en route to your location.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Trowa sat in the waiting room, his head in his hands. Quatre had been in surgery for an excruciating four hours and in that time no one had given them any type of update on his condition. It had taken precious hours for the rescue crew to reach him, then move and shore up what was left of the building to dismantle the scaffolding that had acted as a protective barricade between his body and the debris that would have undoubtedly crushed him. It had only been by the grace of god, and an amount of luck that Trowa was sure had sapped Quatre’s karmic account for multiple life times, that the scaffolding had wedged against a stack of pallets as it fell. Other wise it would have made a solid impact on the floor and the unconscious man lying there.

He felt an arm go around his shoulders and squeeze lightly. “He’ll be okay, Tro. He’s strong.”

Trowa nodded, unwilling to meet Duo’s eyes, afraid that the fear and guilt he was feeling would show. That the compassion he knew would be there would be too much and he would fall apart. He couldn’t do that; he needed to be strong for Quatre.

“Mr. Barton?” Trowa’s head jerked up at the sound of his name and he pulled away from Duo to hurry across the room. Trowa noted absently that Heero and Wufei had materialized from where they had been waiting quietly to stand next to him.”

“How is he?”

The surgeon’s smile reflected how tired he was but was still genuine in its warmth. “He’ll be fine. Luckily there were no major internal injuries. Unfortunately his left leg was damaged quite intensively. We had to put several pins in to hold the bone in place. Time will tell how well it will heal. He’s young, and in good health and physical condition so I suspect he should recover with little or no permanent damage.”

Trowa nodded and let his eyes slip close as relief overwhelmed him. Quatre was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. Trowa felt his knees begin to buckle and for a moment he thought he might collapse until three pairs of hands steadied and supported him. Lending him their strength.

“When can I see him?”

The surgeon frowned and looked at his watch. “He’ll be in recovery for at least another hour.” He studied Trowa for a moment then pursed his lips, considering. “If you are willing to wear a gown and mask I can smuggle you in now. It will only be for a couple of minutes. Then you’ll have to come back here and wait for Mr. Winner to be moved to his room.”

Trowa straightened up and nodded, his thoughts focused only on seeing Quatre and reassuring himself that his partner was alive and would be well.  
“Thank you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Five minutes Mr. Barton, then you’ll have to leave. “

“Understood.”

Trowa’s eyes did not leave the man in the bed next to him to acknowledge the nurse’s departure. His gaze carefully took inventory of his partner, taking in the heart and blood oxygen monitors, the IV bags that slowly dripped precious fluid into the tubing that ran into Quatre’s arm. His left leg was elevated off the bed by several wedge shaped pillows.

Trowa sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring the chair. Softly, he brushed Quatre’s hair back from his forehead noting absently that it was matted with dust and dirt from the explosion. His eyes flicked over the bruising on the side of Quatre’s face, categorizing it as superficial and dismissing it. With his other hand he took Quatre’s hand in his, kissing the back, before rubbing it against his cheek.

“You’re going to be fine, Quat. I love you. We’re going to get through this together I promise. What ever it takes, I’ll be here for you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sally knocked lightly on the door, before pushing it open. “I hope you’re decent gentlemen, because I’m coming in.”

“We’re decent, Sally.” Quatre’s soft voice was music to her ears. After seeing the way the blond had looked when he had been wheeled into the emergency room several days earlier, she wasn’t sure she’d ever hear that sound again.

Quatre was sitting in a semi reclining position, his left leg in a sling and resting a foot or so off the bed. His face was battered and bruised but his smile was bright and genuine. Trowa sat on the bed next to him, Quatre’s hand enclosed in his and resting on Trowa’s leg.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Much better, thank you. I’m ready to go home now.” His smile softened as he looked up at Trowa. “ _We’d_ like to go home.”

Sally shook her head. "The pins appear to be holding but we don’t want to take any chances. Another few days and then we will X-ray it again and make a decision from there.”

The sunny smile on Quatre’s face slipped and he frowned. “I’m sure it's fine. I heal quickly. I’d /really/ like to go home soon. I hate being in the hospital and I have things to do both at home and at work.”

Sally furrowed her brow and studied him. “This is not going to be a quick process, Quatre. Dr. Newls had to put five pins in your leg. The bone was crushed. It’s amazing he was able to repair as much as he did and that you are not going to end up permanently disabled. You don’t want to undo all his hard work by pushing too hard and expecting too much too soon.”

“What _should_ we expect?” Trowa’s soft tenor cut through the tension in the room with four careful words.

“Realistically, another three or four days inpatient at least. Then home on complete bed rest for at least a month. Once the leg has healed enough to put some weight on it crutches for another six to eight weeks before switching to a cane. Best case scenario you will be healed and using a cane intermittently in 6 months. More likely it will be eight to ten.”

The smile was now completely gone from Quatre’s face and the frown that replaced it was not pleasant. “That can’t be right. I have an exceptionally high rate of healing. I can’t be out that long. Preventers needs me!”

Sally nodded and reached for the chart hanging from the end of Quatre’s bed. “I know and I’ve factored that into my estimates.” Her tone softened as she took in the distress on Quatre’s face. “Yes they do, but they need you whole and able to do your job.” She quickly skimmed the information on the printed sheet, made a few notations, then replaced it on the hook.

“How is the pain? Do you need anything? There are a couple of non-sedating pain killers we can try.”

“No.” The sullen tone of Quatre’s voice made it clear he was not happy. Sally quirked at eyebrow at Trowa and received a small shake of his head in response.

“I have other patients to see. Quatre, I’ll be back in later to check the incision.”

Quatre shrugged and closed his eyes, ignoring her final words.

“Thank you.”

Sally nodded her acknowledgement of Trowa’s statement, then walked briskly to the door. When she was gone, Trowa squeezed Quatre’s hand and began to stroke it with his fingertips. He studied the angry and sullen expression on his lover’s face and sighed. Despite being warned earlier, Quatre had not allowed himself to really believe he was not going to just bounce back from this like he had so many times before.

“It won’t be so bad, Quat. We’ve been talking about taking some time off and spending it together. This could be our chance.”

Quatre snatched his hand away and rolled over as well as he could, turning his back on Trowa. “This isn’t a fucking vacation, Trowa. I’m crippled. Useless. Go away. Just go. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“Quat…”

“GO AWAY! “ Quatre’s voice took on an edge of hysteria. “I don’t want your fucking pity.”

Trowa stood, unshed tears burning his eyelids. “If you’re sure…”

The sullen silence from the bed was answer enough. “I’ll be outside if you need me. I love you Quat.”

“Leave me alone.”

Trowa nodded, turned slowly and walked out of the door. Outside the room he leaned back against the wall, his face an impassive mask. Quatre may not want him but he still needed him and Trowa was not going anywhere. He had promised Quatre that he would be there for him, that they were in this together, and he meant to honor that whether Quatre wanted him to or not.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Come on, Quat, you’ll feel better after a shower.” Trowa paused, then continued with another tactic when his words did not elicit a response. “You have physical therapy this afternoon, you need to get ready.”

Sullen silence hung in the air and Trowa stared at Quatre’s back, willing him to roll over and cooperate. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, unsure what to do to motivate his increasing unresponsive partner. Running short on sleep and patience limited his ability to come up with new ways to countermand Quatre’s increasingly passive aggressive self-pity.

“There’s a new café near the hospital. We could stop and have lunch before therapy if you’d like. Sally told me they were very good.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.”

Trowa kept his voice low and soothing, as if talking to one his big cats. If Quatre knew he was getting to him that would only make things worse. Lately, he seemed to be doing everything he could to push Trowa’s buttons and try to get a reaction out of him. Not just his buttons, Trowa thought sadly, everyone’s. Wufei had stormed out the other day after Quatre had thrown the chess board at him and accused him of cheating.

“We don’t have to get lunch but you still need to shower before we go.”

“I’m not going. It’s a waste of time and not making a fucking bit of difference. I’m tired of it and I am not letting that sadistic bitch touch me again.”

“Quat…”

“Fuck off, Trowa. I’m…not…going. Deal with it or don’t I really don’t care.”

Trowa's grit his teeth then turned and walked into the bathroom. He opened the shower door then leaned in to turn on the water, carefully adjusting it to the correct temperature. When it was set, he walked back out of the bathroom and came to stand next to the bed again.

“The shower is ready, Quat.”

Quatre’s voice was a low growl. “I already told you…I’m…not…going! Are you stupid or just deaf?”

“I heard you just fine.” Trowa bent down and wrapped his arms around Quatre’s waist lifting him off the bed, and pulling him towards him at the same time.

“What the fuck?” Quatre flailed around trying to connect with something. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down now!”

“You need a shower.” Carrying the struggling man into the bathroom, Trowa stepped into the shower, ignoring the fact that they were both still clothed and slid the door closed behind him. Carefully he set Quatre down on the tile, holding him firmly, but gently, so that he did not slip and fall.

Quatre’s body went rigid when he felt his feet touch the slick tiles. He pressed back into Trowa’s steadying embrace before he realized what he was doing. Trowa’s arm around him served as reminder of his hated weakness and his eyes narrowed, anger building until it exploded. Turning and tilting his head so he could look the taller man in the eye he hissed

“ I…HATE…You!”

Trowa swallowed the pain reminding himself that Quatre was angry with himself, his feelings of frustration and hopelessness. Trowa raised his shields, attempting to block out some of the fury assaulting him. He was used to it now. The fury, hatred, self-loathing and hopelessness battered him in endless rounds day after interminable day.

“I love you, Quat.”

Quatre’s lip curled in contempt and turning his back yet again he dismissed the soft endearment. He allowed himself to be undressed and bathed in stony silence not even responding when Trowa dabbed at the tender scar on his thigh.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*

Trowa sighed and stared into his coffee cup. The events of the previous day swirled through his head and he tried to put them into perspective. No matter how hard he tried to dismiss them, Sally’s words wouldn’t go away.

_”His leg is healing but unless he starts to cooperate and do the physical therapy and the exercises he won’t regain muscle control or usage of it. The only thing holding Quatre back is Quatre.”_

He’d tried to argue that Quatre was making progress, but Sally would hear nothing of it.

_”Listen to yourself, Trowa. Before the accident you never would have put up with this. He bullies you and everyone else around him. Half the girls in physical therapy refuse to work with him. Lisa threatened to quit if she had to do another session with him. Even the other pilots won’t put up with him. I know for a fact he hasn’t had a single visitor in three weeks.”_

Trowa shook his head, remembering the conversation. Quatre was just having a hard time right now. Once he started to see some results from the physical therapy and exercises it would start to get better. He was sure of that. Sally’s final words haunted his mind and he pushed them away, not wanting to see the reality clearly stated in them.

_”You are not taking care of yourself. You’ve lost weight and from the bags under your eyes I’m guessing it’s been quite a while since you’ve had a good night’s sleep. I’m sorely tempted to have you admitted to the hospital for exhaustion but I won’t. Not yet. Be warned, Trowa, things have to change and it has to happen now. If this continues he’s not only going to destroy himself but you too.”_

Trowa downed his coffee in one hasty gulp and forced away the tears that were pricking his eyelids. He was not going to let that happen. Quatre just needed time and patience. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that whispered he’d had months of time and patience and it was not making a dent in Quatre’s attitude. He had committed himself to Quatre, not just for the good times but the bad too. He was not going to just give up and walk away no matter the cost to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Quatre’s book hit the wall with a solid thud as he gave into the frustration he was feeling. Even with the cane, getting up from the soft couch cushions was a struggle. He was tired of reading, of being cooped up in the house and treated like an invalid. He wanted to get on his bike and go for a good long ride. Feel the powerful machine respond to his movements. Be in control of his destiny.

Swearing loudly in Arabic, he eased himself forward, making sure his good leg was solidly in place before leaning forward and using the cane as leverage to pull himself upright.

Leaning heavily on the cane, he walked through the house towards the kitchen. He might not be able to ride his bike but he could damn well drive the Jaguar. Never mind that it had a manual transmission. He could clutch with his right foot. He’d done it before during the war. It wasn’t the smoothest ride but at this point he couldn't give a good goddamn.

He grabbed his keys from where they hung next to the garage door and stepped into the garage. He shuffled around Trowa’s Blazer then stopped short surprised to find his lover leaning against the driver’s door of Quatre’s Jaguar.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Quatre snapped, his eyes narrowing.

“I live here.”

“ _That’s_ not what I mean Trowa. What are you doing /here/? In the garage.”

“Waiting for you. I’m presuming you want to go for a ride.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Trowa sighed and tugged on his bangs. “Because you’re restless and bored and have been swearing in Arabic for the last ten minutes. You _always_ go for a ride when you’re in this mood.”

Quatre’s eyes narrowed even farther. “What are doing? Fucking spying on me? I don’t need a babysitter!” Each word was clearly spoken and carefully enunciated, punctuating the anger behind it.

“Yes, Quat, I know. You’ve told me. Repeatedly.” Sadness and resignation tainted Trowa’s softly spoken words. “I don’t need to spy on you. In fact, as loud as you were swearing, I would have to be deaf _not_ to hear you.”

Quatre pointedly ignored the soft rebuke, focused completely on what he wanted. “I’m going for a drive,”

“Fine, toss me the keys and I will unlock the doors.”

“NO! You don’t understand. _I'm_ going for a drive. You’re staying here!”

“Quat.” The tone of Trowa’s voice was a warning in itself. “ You are _not_ t driving. Sally hasn’t released you to and even if she had, the car has a manual transmission. You need to be able to clutch and brake at the same time.”

“Sally Po is an incompetent hack who has no clue about what I can and can’t do.”

“You’re not driving.” Trowa’s tone was firm but with an edge of tension.

Angry and frustrated, Quatre threw the keys at Trowa. Only by the grace of his quick reflexes did Trowa manage to catch them instead of being hit in the face. “Fine.” The blond yelled, “ I’ll go back and sit in the den like a good little boy. Will that make you happy?”

Trowa’s eyes narrowed and his breathing picked up. Months of being Quatre’s emotional punching bag were wearing on his almost infinite patience. He was worn out from trying to be supportive and caring to a man who flipped from angry to depressed and back again faster than a hummingbird on speed.

“Yes, as a matter of fact that _would_ make me happy because this is all about _my_ happiness. God knows I have been ecstatic the last few months trapped in this house with you. You’re demanding, you’re spoiled, and you’re obnoxious as hell. I have been patient and understanding but no more.” He flung the keys so they landed at floor at Quatre’s feet. “If you want to go out and kill yourself or someone else because you need to prove something in your own mind then by all means feel free. I won’t stand in your way. It’s a damn good thing you don’t need a babysitter, _Master Quatre_ , because even the Winner fortune would not be enough compensation for anyone to stay and put up with the bullshit I have endured these last months.”

Quatre’s mouth opened and closed as Trowa’s words rained down on him. He wanted to argue, deny the things being said, but he was so stunned by the sudden outburst that he was unable to form the words necessary to rationalize his actions.

“ _I’ve_ stayed because I was under the illusion that at some point the self indulgent self pitying spoiled brat who has been moping around this house and feeling sorry for himself would leave, and the man that I fell in love with would come back. Apparently I was mistaken. _My_ Quatre seems to have died in the explosion leaving behind someone I don’t know and to be perfectly honest I don’t particularly like either. “

He paused to glare at the now silent blond in front of him. His usual calm expression was replaced with a mask of anger and his hands opened and closed convulsively as he spoke.

“But don’t mind me, Quat. _My_ feelings don’t matter after all, this is all about you, poor crippled Quatre. The fact that I’ve had to watch you suffer all this time doesn’t mean a thing. Nor does the fact that you almost died in my arms. That’s irrelevant too, isn’t it? How about the fact that I am as restless and bored as you are because every time I suggest we do something I get a full ration of poor me or a face full of crap. It’s not even worth the effort to keep trying most days. Yet I do, despite the fact that everyone has thrown up their hands in disgust.”

“Trowa, I…I didn’t think…”

“Damn right you didn’t! And I’m tired of it. Tired of having to force you to do /anything/. Tried of taking the brunt of all your anger and frustration. And right this very minute, Quatre Raberba Winner, I’m tired of _you_. You do what ever the hell you want, but when you land yourself in a ditch don’t come crying to me. I have no sympathy left.”

He pushed off from the car and stalked past a gaping Quatre. His hand on the door, he paused. “Oh, and one final thing. I would suggest you work on your empathic shielding because I’m sick of your emotional baggage bouncing around inside my head. I have enough of my own to deal with.” With that, he yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him before disappearing from sight.

Quatre felt his injured leg begin to tremble before it gave out under the strain of holding him upright. “Oh god” he whimpered. “What have I done? What have I done?” He crumpled to the ground and lay there in a ball, tears streaming down his face, Trowa’s words echoing around the now silent garage. Desperately, he reached out caressing the empathic signature he knew as well as his own. For the first time in all the years he had known Trowa there was no response, not even a whisper of acknowledgement. Never before had Trowa shut him out so completely. Raising his shields, he curled himself into a ball and began to sob.

~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Quatre curled closer into the warmth he felt all around him. Slowly his eyes opened and he realized he was no longer lying on the cold cement floor of the garage. At some point in the night Trowa must have come out and picked him up because he was in the middle of their bed. Trowa lay next to him, his body curled into a tight ball, wrapped around his pillow.

Forcing himself to really look at his lover for the first time since the accident Quatre flinched at what he saw. Trowa’s face was thinner and heavy bags darkened the skin under his eyes. Guilt and anger at himself mixed in equal parts in Quatre’s mind and he berated himself for what he had done to the man he loved. As painful as last night had been it was a wake up call that had been long over due.

Gently he kissed Trowa’s forehead, then eased himself to the edge of the bed, scanning the room for his cane. He spotted it almost immediately leaning against the nightstand where it always was. Of course, Trowa would have thought of that. Even as angry and hurt as he was Trowa would never have left him completely helpless.

With grim determination, Quatre pulled himself upright and began a slow but steady progress towards the kitchen. This morning Trowa was going to sleep in for a change. Making breakfast was in no way going to make up for his actions in the past but hopefully it would be a start. As he made his way from the bedroom to start his day Quatre was already making a mental list of all the people he needed to make amends to. He was ashamed to realize just how long that list was.

With shaking fingers Quatre turned the vidphone to face him and dialed in what used to be a very familiar number. One he realized with an intake of breath that he had not called since getting home from the hospital.

“Maxwell here.” Quatre smiled as Duo’s voice came through the speakers. He was facing away from the phone his head bent over a box, carefully examining the contents.

“Hello, Duo.”

Duo’s head jerked up and he spun around to face the vidphone. “Q?”

Quatre nodded, guilt welling up at the surprise and suspicion on his friend’s face. He hurried on before he lost his nerve. He needed to do this. To make things right with the people he had hurt.

“I called to say I’m sorry. I know I’ve been unpleasant…”

“Unpleasant? No Q, having a cold is unpleasant. You’ve been a case of fucking double pneumonia.”

Quatre averted his eyes, anger and remorse battling within him. He knew he hadn’t been very easy to be around but he hadn’t been /that/ bad had he?

“So what happened? Trowa finally give you a swift kick in the ass like everyone’s been telling him to do for months?”

Quatre’s head jerked up and he met Duo’s eyes unflinchingly. “What do you mean by that?”

Duo shook his head and sighed. “Earth to Q. _Think_ about it! When is the last time you’ve said a civil word to him, let alone something decent? You’ve treated him like shit. Tro should have sainthood for putting up with your bullshit. If it’d been me, I would’ve told you to fuck off a long time ago.”

Quatre’s mind flashed over the last six months, the harsh and often cruel words, the childish self-pity and refusal to do anything to help himself. He closed his eyes against the pain. He could see Trowa’s face. Picture the sadness and hurt now that he was not allowing his own emotions to cloud his view.

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, now I think you understand just how _unpleasant_ you’ve been.” Duo’s voice was soft and low. “He won’t tell you but I will because I think you need to know. Sally threatened to put him in the hospital at your last check-up. The only reason she didn’t was because he promised to start eating and sleeping better.”

“Oh god, Trowa.” He could see Duo nodding through the haze of unshed tears.

“You’ve got some things to think about, Q. I’m sure once you do you’ll figure out what you need to do and make it right.”

The screen went black and somewhere it registered that Duo had ended the call. Taking a deep breath, and then another to steady himself, he dialed in Heero’s number, afraid that if he stopped now he would never work up the courage to make the rest of the calls.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Movement caught Quatre’s attention and he spun on the stool he was perched on. He’d discovered that if he moved it close to the stove he could reach all the burners easily. He smiled as his eyes took in a sleepy eyed Trowa dressed only in a pair of baggy shorts leaning on the doorway studying him.

“Breakfast is almost done.”

Trowa raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“So I see. Do you need any help?”

Quatre swallowed and for a minute a flash of anger crossed his face but was quickly squelched. There was no shame in accepting help. He was not helpless, just limited in mobility right now. He was done with the self-pity and taking his frustrations out on Trowa.

“If you could set the table and carry the pancakes over I would appreciate it.”

Trowa’s eyebrow arched a bit higher, but he nodded his agreement and set about the task. Before long breakfast was on the table and both men were seated with a plate of pancakes in front of them. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, Quatre broke the silence.

“I was an ass. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Quatre’s voice was soft, his touch against Trowa’s consciousness light and hesitant.

The responding empathic touch was strong and sure and Quatre let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The loss of that closeness had hurt more than the words Trowa had spoken to him. He had forgotten how much he needed Trowa’s touch to ground him. How much he depended on his partner’s strength to get him through the day.

“Yes, you were and yes, I do.”

Quatre flinched at the pain in Trowa’s words and reached for the other man’s hand, holding it in his own. Trowa scooted his chair around the side of the table so it was flush with Quatre’s. Carefully he took Quatre in his arms and soothed him as the tears began to fall.

“I’m so sorry, Trowa. About everything. I don’t know why you would forgive me after everything I’ve done.”

Trowa smoothed the bangs back out of Quatre’s eyes and smiled softly before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Quat. I don’t need any more reason than that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sally smiled as her fingers probed the line of scar tissue that ran the length of Quatre’s thigh.

“It’s healed nicely and I understand from Marissa that you have completed physical therapy in record time. We need to take some X-rays and check to make sure the pins are holding but I don’t see any reason why you can’t return to work in another week or so.” Seeing the grin starting to spread across Quatre’s face, she quickly added. “ _Very_ part time at first and limited physical stress. Your leg may be healed, but it's still weak. I would suggest you speak with Wufei about designing an exercise regime to help build it back up. I’m sure he or Heero would be glad to help. “

“I’ll be good. I promise.” When Sally snorted and made no attempt to hide her disbelief he appealed to Trowa. “I’ve been good lately, haven’t I?”

Trowa nodded his head and a small self-satisfied smirk quirked his lips. “Extremely.”

Sally sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. “I did _not_ need that information or visual gentlemen.” Muttering to herself, she made some notations on Quatre’s chart, and then handed him a stack of papers “That’s your medical release and permission to return to work on limited duty. Take them to Lady Une and she can start the process to get you reinstated as an active agent.”

“Does this mean I can drive again?” Quatre stood, pulled his sweat pants up, and secured them above his slender hips.

“As much as the idea frightens me, yes.” Seeing the glint in his eyes she pinned him with a look, the tone of her voice brooking no argument. “ For short periods of time and you are to pull over _immediately_ if your leg starts feeling tired or shaky. Now get out of here you two.”

Out in the hall, Trowa took the car keys out of his pocket and dangled them just out of Quatre’s reach.

“Want to drive?”

An eager grin split Quatre’s face and he reached for the little pieces of metal that represented his return to independence.

“Yes! Oh, yes!” 


End file.
